Beautiful Disaster
by Applelicious
Summary: A closer look at Jack through the eyes of his first love in L.A. Oneshot


Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own them.

Beautiful Disaster

A/N: Hehe…this has absolutely nothing to do with my other fanfic it's just something that was nagging at me and wouldn't leave me alone until it was written.

I looked out the window and saw him coming down the street with hands in his pockets. It was dark out, but I would have recognized his walk anywhere. It was the walk of a confident man that had found a purpose in life, found his place on the wheel.

Looks could be deceiving.

I'd known him too long to be fooled by his arrogant swagger. I remembered him as a scrawny kid fresh out of high school, a little boy who hadn't grown into the body he'd been given yet. I remembered a boy who'd had a dream, but hadn't known how to achieve it. Like many before him he'd come to L.A., the city of angels, with not much more than the clothes on his back to "make it," not knowing what it would take; not realizing the things he'd have to give up before he would even be allowed to step on stage.

I had been just like him. It must have been fated that we should meet. How else could anyone explain our meeting in the park? How else would the two of us have found one another in the army of lost souls that roamed the streets?

He'd seen me and was heading this way with powerful strides. I never in my life would have dared hope for him to come back, even less imagined him coming back and wondered what had gone wrong? He'd made it, I knew it; I'd seen him signing his heart out on television, on MTV. Only to be unappreciated and recognized only for his looks. Maybe when he gets older and his looks fade, they'd see the talent behind the face.

I let the curtain fall back and went to unlock the door. Even after all this time I still didn't know how to refuse him.

I opened the door and he was already there waiting to be let in. He looked pale in the moonlight. I couldn't remember for the life of me if he'd always been that way or if it way the effect the night was having on him. I didn't reach out and neither did he, I simply let him in.

Without saying a word he entered and looked around, familiarizing himself once more with my home. I went to take his coat out of habit and realized he had none on. I shook my head and went to sit in the living room to watch one of those Saturday night "C" movies. When he was ready, he'd tell me what he'd come for.

He walked around for a while, warming himself I assumed, before sitting down next to me and laying his head on my shoulder. Still he said nothing. I remembered the first time we'd been together like this, we'd just met and couldn't help but be a little shy. That hadn't stopped us, however, from swamping life stories. We'd been so young, so easily impressed, so ready to fall irrevocably in love.

We'd been fools.

I laid my head against his and settled my body more comfortably against him. His arms went around my waist as he buried his face in my hair and inhaled deeply. I felt tears fall on my cheek and moved away to look at him. "Jack?"

"She's gone. She's gone, gone. I didn't even get the chance to see her again," he said gulping for air.

I immediately knew who he was talking about and felt at loss for words. I remembered a passage from a book I'd been read by my sister called The Little Prince it went: "I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more. It is such a secret place, the land of tears." It described perfectly how I felt right now looking at him cry. Tears are such a private thing. I'd never been close to my parents, so I couldn't offer any words of wisdom or advice, not that I thought it would help.

I did the only thing I could think of, I took one of his hands in mine and let him cry. No words were needed, what could I have said? I had words of love for him, words to describe the shallow world in which we live, but none that could alleviate the pain he felt. I could have filled the deafening silence of the room with useless chatter but what good would it have done?

"I'm going back to Detroit," he said much later that night as he lay facedown on my bed. I looked at him and nodded. Nothing would have changed his mind.

I silently said goodbye to him as I watched him walk away the next morning. And I let the curtain fall back once more.

A/N: Review!


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